


Aftermath

by klaviergavout



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Gen, beginnings of friendship, hurt/comfort sorta?, i love these boys i would die for them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 22:04:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11217174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klaviergavout/pseuds/klaviergavout
Summary: Rich wakes up in the hospital with the worst migraine he's ever had in his life. Michael's there.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cirkne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirkne/gifts).



Rich woke that afternoon to the worst migraine he'd ever experienced; it felt as if his whole brain was pulsating out of his skull. This wasn't any ordinary hangover. With a groan he tried to shift his body, to make himself less uncomfortable, until he remembered he was in a full body cast and couldn't attempt doing so without causing more pain. Shutting his eyes and trying to go back to sleep was attempted in vain, too, and so with a sigh he just settled on staring at the wall. Again.

Only Jenna Rolan had since visited him, a stuffed 'Get Well Soon' bear in hand- he had to admit, that was one way of getting the news about the fire, and by 'news' he meant very vague answers to a _very_ long stream of questions- and he didn't expect his parents to visit until the police got involved, because they simply didn't care. Part of him wished to see people he knew, and another part of him wanted to push them all away, lock the hospital doors and let nobody see him again.

His squip hadn't spoken to him since the fire. Since he hadn't been able to get any Mountain Dew Red at the party, he figured it had to still be there, constantly listening, observing. Maybe this was punishment, punishment for hating it that night. Punishment for crying and screaming and embarrassing himself in front of everyone he had tried to impress for years on end. Punishment for emptying Jake's parents' entire liquor cabinet onto the floor accidentally-on-purpose. Punishment for lighting the match and watching it fall.

Rich's thoughts were interrupted by a loud sniff from beside him, and without twisting his head too much he tried to look in its direction. From the corner of his eye he could see headphones, brown hair, a flash of red.

Michael.

"Michael?"

Michael turned around immediately with a quiet yelp, and with some difficulty Rich managed to shift his head to look at him. His face was dull and tear-stained, cheeks puffy, and the usual smile he wore around school had completely vanished. Rich was shocked. It was hard to distinguish Michael from the undead creatures he so often talked about.

"Oh, hey, Rich," said Michael at last, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve. "You're awake."

"Yeah, du--" Rich stopped, paused for a moment. "How long have you been here?"

"'Couple hours. I came to see Jeremy."

"Jeremy?"

Michael stepped to his right to reveal Jeremy Heere, fast asleep on the bed next to his own.

"Wow, you weren't kidding." Rich stared at the sleeping Jeremy for a while. He looked serene. "What'd he--"

"They squipped everyone."

"Sorry, what?"

"They squipped everyone at the play last night," repeated Michael, glancing back at Jeremy over his shoulder. "I brought Mountain Dew Red in case something happened, tried to give it to Jeremy, and everyone went _mad_ trying to stop me helping him. Eventually he got Christine to drink it, and everyone just collapsed right there onstage. I looked into it yesterday and I think all the squips are connected to some sort of nationwide server, so yours--"

"--is gone." Rich finished the sentence for him, a silent grin breaking out onto his face. "So that's why it hurts like a bitch."

"Yeah."

Michael twiddled his thumbs, an awkward smile on his face, before turning around to look at Jeremy again. Rich wondered what was going on in his head. Rich wondered how it had felt to not have a solution to every problem, to have to stick through the tough times, to not be instructed by a squip. Rich wondered how Michael had even _survived_ the past weeks without his best friend, without his player two, without the one person who used to care.

"Rich?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"How much of what Jeremy did was-- how much of what he did was _real?"_ Michael swallowed hard, and when he turned round and Rich met his eyes, he could see the desperation. "How much of it all was _him?"_

Rich had seen Jeremy in the hallways, ignoring Michael's incessant attempts to get his attention, and he wondered now why he hadn't stepped in. He wondered now why he had thought it was okay.

It took him a few moments to think of some way to explain it to Michael without crushing him.

"Christine, the fame, the popularity- that was all him. _That's_ what he wanted." He sighed, offering up a weak smile. "Yeah, okay, he ignored you to get there. But if there's one thing everyone in this whole school knows, it's that he'll never give up on you, 'least not deep down. He's your best friend."

Rich wished at that moment he could say the same about Jake.   
  
He couldn't say he knew who he was really preaching to.

Michael was crying now, silent ugly tears streaming down scrunched-up cheeks, and Rich wanted nothing more than to reach out and hug him, to bring comfort to the only somewhat innocent one caught up in this colossal mess.

"Michael, listen, whatever he said to you wasn't true--"

"I know." Michael sniffed loudly, wiping his eyes on one of his baggy red sleeves. "It just hurts thinking about it. It hurts trying to tell myself it was all just a voice in his head."

"Yeah. But, hey, the squips are gone now. Me and him, we're back to normal."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," replied Michael with a sigh, a small smile settling on his face despite the tears still dripping. "Look, I'm gonna-- I'm gonna go to the bathroom before Jeremy wakes up. Get some tissues."

"OK."

When Michael had left, heading for the bathroom, Rich turned to look over at the sleeping Jeremy; there wasn't anything else of much interest to do. He slept almost too peacefully, chest rising and falling gently, as if his entire body had finally broken loose of the squip's tight bonds. Rich felt content.

Jeremy stirred, eyes half-lidded, sitting up in his confusion. "Hello?" He tried to stretch his arms out before wincing suddenly, hand coming up to clutch his forehead. "Ow. _Ow ow ow ow ow."_

Rich grinned.

"Hurts like a motherfucker, doesn't it?"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for giving this a read! I know this probably wasn't the most exciting fic ever, but interaction between Michael and Rich gives me life. As a couple, as friends, I don't care, I just love these two so much.


End file.
